24 columnists on the Journal and American who write their copy at home and send it to the paper by messenger. Editors, too, respect Paul as a newspaperman because he invariably gets his copy in on time. Most of Paul's valuable gossip reaches him anonymously at his office, by mail and telephone, from people who are best described, in his own phrase, as "bitchy friends." Paul's method of verifying the items offered to him is a sleek one. If he hears that Mrs. X. has gone to Reno to get a divorce, he telephones her house and asks to speak to her. The servant who answers the telephone will say, per- haps, that Mrs. X. is not in. "What time do you expect her back?" Paul inquires, and the servant tells him that Mrs. X. is, in fact, out of town. "Of course! How stupid of me!" Paul then exclaims. "Can you give me her address in Reno?" Servants who are slow thinkers will hand out the ad- dress then and there, and even those who retain a vestige of caution are apt to say, "We haven't got it-yet." Whichever way it happens, Paul has the information he wanted. If a friend gives him a hot tip, he is scrupulous about not revealing the source of the story after he has printed it, and he has professed a shyness about getting to know impor- tant people really well, since friendship with them might obstruct his duties as ., . socIety s town crIer. Unless he is restrained by editorial policy, Paul is not inclined to be con- siderate in dealing with blameless in- fants born to rich men on the loose. Some years ago, he heard that a well- known N ew York banker and the show girl to whom he had given his affections were living under an assumed name in an uptown apartment with their il- legitimate child. To verify the rumor, Paul was obliged to spend days tracking down the child's birth certificate, which was made out in the mother's name. He found it, all right, and printed the story, names and all. Some of his other scoops have been comparatively harmless. He was the first chatter-writer to couple romantically the names of King Edward VIII and Wallis Simp- son. "Even Walter Winchell gave me credit for that," he says. Dining in aNew York restaurant one night in 1 922, he stopped at a table occupied by Charlotte Demarest and Count Ed- ward Zichy; Miss Demarest was to be married to one George Burton next day "Only I'm not going to marry George," she told Paul, who lingered persuasively over the table. "Zichy and "."".-"..,... ji if . }'il/f' ..." .": .::! ::.:_: .. ::_. '7 , .: ;;J;;.;.;..,..,.: ::".;,.:;;:::: .:.; -. . . ,IV......... ".:- .:' .;,..--, 1< *.; 'f: ,: J iJ, ij I -l . . .. " ! :;"I ';; i!"$ r l!J i '1i t ' , 'i 1t f ;: ' ".:. ....-...... ,Lt' :,' t..:.:.-::::.:." . . .;- :' W' .. :..--:- .:. : .: f . <. 'r. ill \.,,': "Of course we'd like to see you enroll for a course of six treatn ents, but we can't pron ise any n iracles." ., " . y.:" "', .." '....., , e . "Our grandmothers brushed their hair a hundred times before going to bed, and there's a n oral in that for all of us " ",/'... ". .... -:- "". :. . . I are eloping." Paul stayed, after that, only long enough to make sure the state- ment was true; then he rushed out to get the story into the morning edition, cheerfully including a paragraph which read: "This bit of news will come as a distinct surprise, not only to society, but to the bride's mother, Mrs. Warren G. Demarest, of No. 145 East Forty- ninth Street, and to young George Bur- ton, who had planned to marry Miss Demarest today." By the time the paper was on the newsstands, Countess Zichy (née I)emarest) had broken the news to her mother, who, according to a la- ter story of Cholly's, was left gasping